


With a cold rush of blood...

by Rhapsody the Bard (Rhapsody)



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Gen, Psychological Horror, Quadruple Drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-03
Updated: 2013-01-03
Packaged: 2017-11-23 12:44:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/622277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhapsody/pseuds/Rhapsody%20the%20Bard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nerdanel is plagued by a nightmare, can Irmo’s wisdom shed a light on it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	With a cold rush of blood...

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Bingo Card prompt Powers and Underpowers B7: Irmo (Lórien): nightmare and Four word drabble core, vulture, stratus, maim
> 
> A 400 word drabble (counted by hand), my thanks go out to Wenont, my beta!

All she knew was that a stratus of clouds surrounded her. They closed in on her like suffocating mantle. It was there, she just knew it was there, and fear set in. The beating of the vulture's wings chilled her to the bone. Or was it something else? Once more, she tried to turn her body away from the dark menace hiding behind the grey clouds, coming so close.

But it mattered not. There was nowhere to go, even though she tried so hard to yank the chains that confined her to this rock, and hanging, just barely, by one arm. There was one way out. It was a simple solution... Sharp rocks tethered on the edge nearby. Could she? Did she dare to maim herself? Did she have the courage to pick that rock and cut through skin, through flesh and then fling herself against the stone slopes, hoping that her wrist would break? Only to fall into freedom, away from this pending danger?  
Such a perfect body...Such a fine mind. So perfect and well built: her Maitimo.

With a cold rush of blood to her head, she bolted upright, fisting the sheets that covered her. Bewildered, she looked around as her heart raced and her mouth went dry.  
"Here, take a sip and come to your senses." Nerdanel met Irmo's gentle gaze; his concern apparent and no words came. It was their doom that invaded her dream world, reminding her that she should be there with them. She abandoned her sons to a cruel fate. What kind of mother was she?

"I cannot speak. There is naught I can do. It is my burden to bear as they fall to their doom," she whispered sadly.

"Nay, look at yourself, Nerdanel. It is obvious that you are weary from grief. Your eyes mirror the pain you feel and must tear you apart from inside. There must be a meaning to all of this," Irmo insisted.

Nerdanel laughed bitterly. " Meaning? And what meaning would that possibly be? I have tried to search for a meaning. What good has it done? Perhaps, it tells me that I have to let go of my children, those brought forth from my flesh. How much more painful than giving birth to seven can it be?" She remained silent and rose to leave, to pass him, defying Irmo as he stood by the door.


End file.
